My Cover is Blown
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My Squatter Toilet |
Ok I’m just going to be very candid and honest. I broke this entry up into three
parts. First, I want to paint a
picture of my personality so you will get a feel for this story. Then I will attempt to describe to you
how I bathe myself in a plastic bin since I don’t have a shower or hot water. Lastly, if you don’t mind hearing
about me peeing, then read on for my rough experience with the squatter toilets
in a separate entry titled: Princess
Sabrina Meets her Squatter Toilet.
There will be no sugar coating about the squatting, so read at your
own discretion. Well here it goes…
If you know me well or had the pleasure of spending
some time with me, then it’s only a matter of time before you will start to see
what my friends and family calls the princess side of me. I try to cover it up at times, but it
always comes out. I have learned
this week that there is no way of going around it; it has always been here and
it’s here to stay, no matter where I am in the world. In my defense, growing up my parents did everything for me,
I was my mom’s live doll and I was a little spoiled. It’s part of what makes me who I am, so I should probably
embrace it since my Dad tells others I can’t help it. I don’t want to portray myself as a spoiled brat, so I have
to say that like most people there are many different aspects of my
personality. I have also been
described as very loving, nurturing, bubbly, generous and even funny.
However, the day before I left for Bhutan my aunt was saying,
“How is this princess going to make it in Bhutan” since it’s so different from America as she looked at my sparkly shirt and year supply of mascara. Right then and there, I planned that
when I arrived to Bhutan with the 14 other BCF teachers, I was not going to act
anything like a princess and instead display my more desirable characteristics. I didn’t exactly know how I was going
to suppress a huge part of my personality and maybe that’s why the plan
failed. I think my plan started to
crumble away the moment I got to the airport. The others quickly caught on because my bags were too heavy
and I wouldn’t dare carry them in fear I would hurt my back. Thankfully, Tim was so kind to me and
carried my purse and all. I don’t
know what I would have done without him.
I noticed others looking at me and giggling as I frequently called out,
“Timmm, Timmm, my purse please.” I
was a little embarrassed, but I couldn’t carry them!
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Simon and I Shopping in Thimphu |
Then when we got to Thimphu, it was no secret that I was
freaked out by all the stray dogs and practically needed someone to hold my
hand down the street. If any topic
about the dogs came up, the group’s eyes would venture towards me for
entertainment as I squirmed in my seat.
I knew my cover was blown a few days in when others just started flat
out calling me princess, the Russian princess with the fur hat, Jasmine should
carry her own things, etc. Apparently
I am an international princess! Poor
Simon, a BCF teacher, got suckered into shopping with me and had no idea what
he got himself into, but he did give me a new nickname: Princess! So there was no point in pretending to be something your
not. I’m just not rough, tough,
and full-blown independent. I’m
learning that there is something about me that’s very gentle, soft around the
edges, fragile and maybe a little needy at times (I’m working on the latter). It’s interesting how others can
perceive this and offer helping hands.
So when we all found out what our bathrooms would entail, I
was secretly terrified about how I would adjust to NO SHOWERS and what I
perceived as A PORCELINE HOLE IN THE GROUND for a toilet. I’m the girl who lives for hot luxurious
baths, sometimes two a day and I lay in the shower for comfort when I’m
sick. I know some people might
think that I am a freaking water waster, but in America most find this acceptable. So how could I possibly boil a small
bucket of water to splash on myself while standing in a cold-cemented refrigerated
bathroom? This became my new
biggest worry. I hadn’t thought
about this before I came. Instead
I was worried about poisonous spiders and hungry bears. How could I have been so naïve to think
that I would have a hot shower or bathtub? Maybe I unconsciously didn’t want to know.
I’m in love with a
Red Plastic Tub
Well, I tell you what, this princess is a lot tougher than I
had ever imagined. In fact, at the
end of the orientation, as some of the teachers suffered from illnesses and
homesickness, Simon say’s, "Who would have thought that this little princess turned out to
be one of the strongest ones here: tougher than nails." Simon, if you’re reading this, thank
you dearly for not being part of the crew who is betting on how long it will
take me to slit my after I saw my bathroom, this cracks me up.
The way I saw it was there was no turning back, so I decided
to just go with it. I bought the
largest, roundest, red, plastic bin I could find in Thimphu. I proudly wrote on it with permanent
marker, “SABRINA’S TUB” for all to see.
I picked out a nice water heater emersion and pictured myself having a
hot bubble bath in my new plastic tub.
I found myself feeling grateful for being petite enough to fit into it. I even became all bubbly about this
inventive tub of mine. Before I
knew it, I started to get attached to it.
When some workers were loading it on the truck for my destination, I
found myself hovering over it to make sure it didn’t get any cracks. I had fallen in love with this piece of
plastic. It was going to be just the
tub and me.
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The Bathroom! |
When I arrived to my house, I discovered that my bathroom in
Bhutan is everything my American bathroom is not, but I didn’t care because I
love my location as well as the red tub.
The bathroom is so different from my previous bathroom, it’s hard to
describe, so please refer to the picture.
It has an icy block cement floor, cement walls, a window with large
cracks around the wooden edges for fat hairy spiders to come stare at me with
their numerous eyes, a faucet attached to the wall that pours out melted snow
water, a drain in the floor underneath the faucet, a little sink, small mirror and a very bad paint job.
The water that pours out is so cold like dry ice that it
hurts my hands. So I have to heat
it up to bathe, wash my face or wash dishes. To heat my bath water, I take a smaller blue bucket of water
and lay a bamboo stick across the top of the bucket. Then I attach my heater emersion in the middle of the bamboo,
so more than half of it is emerged in the water. Only then will I turn it on! I wait about 60-90 minutes until the water is steamy
hot. I test how hot the water is
by placing my hand on the outside of the bucket and NOT inside the bucket, so I
don’t get shocked.
Don't Electrocute Yourself!
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Home Made Heater Emersion |
As a newbie, the first time I heated up the water, I almost
killed myself. My neighbor wanted
me to use her homemade heater emersion since it works faster than my store
bought emersion. However, it isn’t
as safe as mine. If I somehow
touch the water while it’s in it, I would experience the electric chair unlike
my factory made heater emersion that might give me a little zap. Just about all the local Bhutanese use
the homemade one and there are a few fatal cases due to it. Although this fact scared the living day
lights out of me, I didn’t want to be rude by refusing to use their heater emersion. The first time my neighbor heated the
water for me because she knew I had no clue how to do it. I welcomed her company because I
secretly didn’t want to come near what looked like a death trap.
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My Factory Made Heater Emersion |
However, the second day I got a little braver and used to
looking at it, so I decided that I could do it myself. While it lay in the bucket of water, I wanted
to check to see if the water was hot enough and my hand instantly started to go
toward the water like I do in America to test the bathtub water. The only difference was that this water
was being fried by a homemade heater emersion, which looks like a supersized
wooden rattrap with scary wires and coils. Luckily, right before I was about to innocently dip my hand
in, I remembered all the warnings I was given to not electrocute myself. As
I was only a centimeter away from death, I jumped back in terror. Thank you Angels! That was the last time I used it because
I don’t trust my ingrained habits. I rather use my slower, but safer heater emersion just in
case.
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Bhukhari Heating up H2O |
After the water is heated in my blue bucket, I use a scoop
to pour half of the hot water into my red tub and I hop on in. If I want more hot water all at once,
then I start a fire in my bhukhari (wood stove) to heat up a big metal pot of
water that’s sits on top of it. The
metal pot is too hot and heavy to carry from my sitting room to the red tub in
the bathroom. So I scoop the hot
bicardi water into another bucket and carry it to my red tub. Back and forth I go when I want to fill
my tub all the way up to the rim with hot water. This is too much work for me, so I usually settle for just the
blue bucket of water heated by the heater emersion, which fills my red tub half
way. I’m looking for a longer bamboo stick to place across my red tub so I can directly fill
it up to the top from the faucet and use my heater emersion in it, instead of
doing all this transferring H2O business.
Although it will take a lot longer to heat that much water (3 hours), it will be worth it. I’m sure
I will find a longer bamboo stick if I venture deeper into the jungle. Yikes!
Once I’m sitting in my tub, I soap up my body first so my
long hair stays dry, which doesn’t cause me to shiver as much as when it’s wet. Then I scoop up some hot water out of
the blue bucket and rinse my body off.
Next I tackle the hair. I
love it and hate it at the same time.
I love how warm it feels while I pour the water over my head and I hate
how cold it feels after I pour the water.
It’s hard for me to dress or dry off properly in the bathroom because
it’s the same temperature as outside (-1 to -5 degree celsius) and my body goes into a shiver attack once
I get out of my red tub. It’s so
cold that I can even see my breath as breathe like a hyperthermia patient in my bathroom. So I rush to my room and dry off next
to my plugged in heater that awaits me with warm clothes that I have draped
over it.
The first day that I was to bathe, my neighbor/new mom gave
me instructions on how to bathe. I
wanted to laugh at how much I felt like an alien or a four year old. I wanted to know if there was a right
way or wrong way to do it since this was all brand new to me. She acted out step by step what to do,
but it was different than I had envisioned. She told me to stand on the cement and just pour the hot water
over my body instead of sitting in my red tub like an American. I think that most of the Bhutanese
don’t grow up with bathtubs or hot running water, so they wash a little
differently. Although they are
very clean and have neat appearances, they don’t feel the need to have to bathe
every single day, especially in colder areas. My American mindset is different and all I can think about
is having daily hot baths or showers.
I had every intention to sit in hot water in my new comfy tub
and that is exactly what I have done. I often find myself hysterically bursting into laugher at
myself as I sit in this red plastic tub filled with hot water prepared all by
little old me. I think if only my
friends and family could see me enjoying my plastic bin they would also laugh. Despite a few drawbacks to the changes
of my bathing situation, I have to say that I love my red tub and I look
forward to sitting in it every night.
Now if I could just get some bubbles or lavender, I would really be in
heaven. Hint hint to whoever wants
to send me some.
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SABRINA'S TUB |